


Check and Mate

by NRGburst



Series: Check and Mate/An Exchange of Kings [1]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Chess Metaphors, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NRGburst/pseuds/NRGburst
Summary: After her big win, Beth goes home to Lexington.She gets a visitor she didn't expect.
Relationships: Beth Harmon & Jolene, Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Series: Check and Mate/An Exchange of Kings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054835
Comments: 85
Kudos: 728





	Check and Mate

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously this show gave us such a good Rivals-to-Lovers arc and then LEFT IT OPEN ENDED FFSSSSSS. Also Jolene deserved more screentime so I am giving it to her here. <3
> 
> ETA: Amazing moodboard made by flemoncake/go-catch-a-chikn! Thank you so much! <3 (On tumblr [here!](https://go-catch-a-chickn.tumblr.com/post/640311290277085184/beth-x-benny-inspired-by-nrgburst-s-wonderful))

The ground staff at Aeroflot are delighted to check them onto the next flight, and they upgrade their seats on top of it, which both disgusts and mollifies Agent Asshole from the State Department.

Maybe Harry was right, and all chess players are Prima Donnas- but Beth's not going to complain if the Russians actually give her the perks of one.

She's really earned it this time, after all.

The immediate cooperation of the staff at the check-in counter also derails the fledgling idea she'd had about booking a new flight to New York; celebrating with the boys for their help. Seeing how amenable Benny might be to celebrating in bed, in particular.

She still wonders if she'll ever have sex like that again- like her whole body was some kind of tightly wound string that had vibrated with such incredible pleasure and relief and _connection_ with his. It makes perfect sense now, why Alma had acted such a fool for her Mexican salesman, if he'd given her sex like that.

And she remembers too, how abruptly it had gone from mind-shattering ecstasy back to relentless tournament tips. Cleo's matter-of-fact assessment of his inability to love anybody but himself, even while she'd been trying to act blasé about finally sleeping with him.

She's grateful, of course, that he'd mustered the boys into a team for her. She hopes it means they're friends again, anyway. But falling for somebody unavailable is something she's done before- and she's sick to death of repeating mistakes.

So she dials Jolene instead.

“...Sorry to call in the middle of the night, but we're going to board soon. You mind picking me up at the airport tomorrow? I got you a present.”

Jolene huffs sleepily. “...You bringing me some real Russian caviar? Or just giving me back something that was mine to start?”

Beth grins. “Maybe both.”

Jolene chuckles. “...I'll see you on the flip side then, cracker.”

As a friendly gesture, she also buys a case of Stolichnaya vodka and ships it to Benny's. The airline staff assure her that it will probably arrive in New York before she even gets to her final destination in Lexington, since there are far fewer connector flights to Kentucky. She hopes the boys will enjoy having a taste of her success– while she stays firmly away from temptation.

* * *

Jolene watches dubiously while Beth whips heavy cream with a whisk, the bowl set in another one full of salted ice.

“Beth, I don't know what kind of homemaking lessons you got at your high school, but whipping cream is for _cakes_ and you s'posed to put sugar in it.”

“They served it with plain whipped cream at the hotel --I promise it'll all taste much better than it looks. It was such an experience. There was even a busboy in a suit who was ten years old, tops, offering vodka service from table to table to go with it. Have to skip that, and the silver trays and porcelain teapots, for obvious reasons.”

Jolene stills and smiles, reaching across the counter to squeeze her arm. “...I am so proud of you. _”_

Beth looks up and smiles back- she's not just talking about the chess. “...I'm proud of me too,” she admits.

They both start with surprise when there's a sudden rapping on the front door. Beth automatically reaches to wipe off her hands, but Jolene gets up and waves her back.

“Naw, I got it. You keep making stuff for fishy egg sandwiches.”

Beth lifts her eyes. “Stop dwelling on what it is before you give it a fair chance!” she calls back.

She keeps her ear cocked- it's probably just a salesman or a neighbor doing some kind of fundraiser, but maybe some paper has sent out a hopeful reporter-

“ _What are you doing here?”_

“ _I-? Beth Harmon- I was told this was her address-”_

“ _Yeah, you're Benny Watts; I seen your mug in those chess magazines. You didn't answer my question.”_

The whisk clatters from Beth's nerveless fingers and she hurries out of the kitchen to see Jolene standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and Benny on her front stoop in his cowboy hat and long leather coat. There's no mistaking the hurt in his eyes warring with his relief to see her.

It really hits her that she hasn't seen him in months. And oh god, how much she's missed him. But-

“What are you doing here?!” she breathes.

“I thought you'd finally want to come to New York. I was all ready to get you from the airport. But instead you sent _vodka._ What kind of shitty double pawn play is that?!”

Jolene's mouth drops open with dawning realization, and she turns to Beth to give her one of those looks that speak volumes.

Beth is too shaken to even attempt to frown at Jolene's judgey brows- it's a twelve hour drive from New York; probably closer to fifteen if he'd stopped for rest and food and gas.

He must have driven all night. _Why would he do that?_

“I- I thought- you boys would appreciate some of the real Russian stuff as a thank you-”

“I would have _appreciated_ a _real_ thank you!” he interrupts, eyes blazing, “you know, maybe a _phone call?_ ”

“...But Townes already called you when I won. And... you told me to stop calling you,” she says weakly and he double takes and throws up his hands as Jolene's eyes widen even more.

“A three hundred dollar call to Moscow really not enough to convince you otherwise?!” he demands.

Beth feels just as blindsided as that first time he'd forced an exchange of queens-- how is it that she still can't see what he's going to do? That just looking at him again is tying her up in knots?

To her utter relief, Jolene takes matters into hand.

“Please forgive me,” she says, beaming graciously. “I was obviously _grievously_ misinformed about how well acquainted you two were. I'm Jolene- I grew up with Beth and we were just about to catch up on her big trip. Why don't you come in and have a bite to eat with us?” She steps back and holds the door open wider but Benny just looks at Beth for confirmation.

“...Please,” she manages. “I can't believe you came all this way on your own- you must be exhausted.”

He shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head, trying to affect nonchalance although he's obviously still upset. “Not much longer than the drive we did from Ohio. And I had to drop off some of the vodka for Beltik- he helped too, you know, but he had to go back for classes before I got your delivery,” he says, the edge creeping back into his voice as he takes off his hat.

Beth nods stiffly before she gestures towards the dining room. “...Would- you like some coffee?”

“Yeah, that'd be great. Mind if I use the bathroom first?”

“No, of course not. Down the hall, first door on the left,” she says, and she stares after him in a daze, still not understanding how Benny is somehow here, in her house.

Jolene tugs her by the elbow back into the kitchen and turns and raises her brows imperiously.

Beth avoids her pointed gaze, determinedly going back to whipping cream while she attempts to form an explanation. “...Benny trained me for Paris after I beat him in Ohio. We weren't even-- we only slept together the last couple of weeks. Pretty sure I was just a convenient lay. He was annoyed at me for coming back here to drink and mope after Paris- and then furious when I asked him for the money for Russia. ...But he got all the boys together to help me prep during that last adjournment. Even while I was sleeping, they were figuring out different strategies I could use to counter Borgov, and he called me at the hotel with them. He'd talked about how Americans should act like a team, like the Russians. I just... can't believe he spent that much on the call when he refused to come with me.”

Jolene nods, brow creased with concentration as she follows. “Oookay. There a reason you been keeping him at arm's length?”

Beth shrugs evasively. “...His life is in New York in his horrible bachelor's apartment, sleeping with models and gambling with his friends and... mine is here, in this house that was Alma's. It was never going to work out, so I thought it would be smarter to just... keep him in a safer position.”

Jolene's face softens. “This isn't a game, cracker. This is _your life._ And you _like_ him.”

Beth gives Jolene an perturbed look. “How do you figure that if I've never even talked about him?”

“I was in that orphanage too, dumbass. We know better than to talk about things we want: they get taken away, then. 'Sides, I'm not blind- your face said plenty.”

Beth scoffs, although she notes that her agitation has made it easier to whip the cream into stiff enough shape to scoop into the serving bowl, anyway. “...They don't need to get taken away when they usually leave all on their own. Pour the coffee while I get the bread?”

Jolene raises her brows in acknowledgment as she moves to do so with easy efficiency. “...That's the truth. And yet he must have driven all night just to come yell at you- isn't that something?”

Beth doesn't understand that herself, but she nods distractedly, hurrying to set the actual table. If it was just her and Jolene, they could have just sat in the kitchen, nice and casual.

Benny blinks with surprise when he sees the rye bread slices and whipped cream set on the table. “...Beluga caviar. Wow.” His brow creases again.

Jolene hits him with an impish smile. “I asked her as a joke. Turns out they sell it to rich folks bringing it on planes all the time! God, Beth- the picture you made at the airport! Walking out in that fancy wool coat and shiny high heeled boots and holding this little cooler, like you was going camping!”

Beth rolls her eyes and curses the flush in her cheeks as she brings the jar out from where it's been chilling in the fridge, along with one of Alma's old silver spoons. As mortified as she is by Jolene poking fun, she can also see that Benny's gone instantly from annoyed to amused. He obviously has no idea what to make of Jolene, and Beth is grateful it's throwing him off kilter, although she sure wishes it didn't have to be at her expense.

“Well, now you don't get to complain if you don't like it,” Beth says pointedly, and Jolene just leans back and grins.

“Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Deardorff, so grateful for the meal,” she says wickedly, and Beth finally just has to laugh.

“...You are the worst."

“You love me anyway,” Jolene declares smugly.

Beth can't deny that, but she deliberately shrugs dismissively. “Only because I'm stuck with you,” she retorts.

Jolene just laughs. “...So how we do all this? Is it like a dip?”

Benny tilts his head, obviously charmed into being helpful. “More like... a garnish. Here, let me show you...”

* * *

Jolene can hardly believe what she's seeing: Beth, all skittish and yet lit up inside because of some gangly dude she whooped at chess a few months ago- she actually holds her breath when their hands brush when he's handing back the jar of caviar he opened.

She has to admit Benny Watts is pretty sharp though- he listens intently when they speak, and is obviously keeping careful track of their body language- Beth's makes him frown something fierce because it's so contradictory.

Still, hearing him and Beth talk through her games in what sounds like English but is actually Chess is pretty fun since they do it with such gleeful enthusiasm that it sounds like sports on the radio. They crow over rook bishop mates and bitch to each other about tedious middlegame strategies and talk about the other players like they're rock stars.

“Luchenko was just... not at all what I expected. He didn't say a word to me the whole tournament, and it turned out he basically spoke perfect English. He 'resigned with relief' before he told me I'd made such a beautiful recovery and that I was a marvel. I was... completely floored.”

“...I used to study his games,” they both add at once, and then they both laugh.

“....He's right, you know. You're absolutely incredible,” Benny says, and then their eyes meet and hold, and Jolene has to look away- it's obvious just how bad they want to drag each other to bed.

So Jolene does what anybody with an ounce of common sense would and offers to deliver the vodka to Harry herself.

“No problem- got the day off today to get you, didn't I? And I know Lexington better than a New Yorker, that's for sure.”

Beth blinks in dismay- she obviously feels safer with her there as a buffer, but she's going to have to deal with having feelings for a man who may or may not break her heart now that he's right here. “But- I haven't even got you your check yet.”

Jolene scoffs. “I know where you live! Tuition's not due 'til June anyway. Thanks for bringing that caviar back for me, cracker. It was a real special treat. Now why don't you clean up while Benny and I get that vodka, then, huh?”

He blinks with surprise and then nods and follows her out.

Jolene glances back at the house while he's digging in the backseat for the vodka, satisfied that Beth isn't hovering at the door while she meddles.

“She never told me about you- which tells me exactly what she thinks. Thing is, I don't know what to think of you myself. Did you know she could barely stand up straight a few months ago?”

He gives her a wary look as he straightens and hands over a brown paper bag with a couple clinking bottles, and Jolene raises a brow to prod him further while she takes it. “Why you here now when you were nowhere around then?”

Benny frowns but answers evenly. “...I asked her to come to New York so she wouldn't be alone after losing in Paris. She's the one who kept turning me down. Said she'd rather be drunk here, on her own.”

Jolene lifts an unimpressed brow. “Is that all the fight you put up? What, your car was in the shop the whole time? You might _know_ she was an orphan, but you obviously don't _understand._ ” Jolene points at the pastel blue house they just walked out of. “This is the first place somebody wanted her. The first place she could call home, and now she owns it, fair and square. You wanted her to leave that for someplace and someone that don't belong to her right after she been beat?”

Benny doesn't answer though he's obviously taken aback. Probably the first time he's ever had a black woman tell him what for. Typical white Yankee.

She hesitates before going on. Beth would probably prefer to keep everything locked up tight, but people who don't understand tend to think they can force drinkers sober with tough rules or punishments.

“...You know Beth ain't ever gonna be cured or fixed. They used to dose us with tranqs every day in the orphanage- kept us calm; made everything about being in a place like that hurt less. And it's always going to be the first thing she wants when she's feeling down, even if she knows better in that big ol' brain of hers. What she _needs_ is people instead of booze and pills. That's why she came home- 'cause she knows _I'm_ always going to stick _._ So just... think about whether you're up to sticking or not, okay? It was nice to meet you, anyway.”

She turns towards her car, not expecting him to have anything nice to say after that talking to, but he speaks up.

“Jolene.”

She turns back, keeping her face carefully blank. His eyes are intense and he gives her a quick nod. “...Thanks. For everything.”

Jolene smiles. “Didn't do it for you. But you're welcome.”

His face twitches with a smile before he inclines his head, and Jolene goes back to walking towards her car.

Maybe he'll be all right- least he's got a sense of humor.

* * *

Beth clears the table and tries to plan what she's going to say to Benny to try to calm her rising anxiety. Maybe she should just kiss him, and they can just fuck out some of the tension first, before trying to talk. Although that might piss him off too- he hates attempts at distraction when he's got some point to make.

God, what she would do for a drink to take the edge off a little.

She twists her hands awkwardly when he strides into the kitchen with his duffle bag and sets it on the floor.

“...Benny, I'm sorry about the vodka. I thought it was a friendly gesture- you know, nice Russian vodka to celebrate my win in Moscow. I really didn't mean to insult you,” she blurts.

He winces before shaking his head emphatically. “No! Don't- apologize. It _was_ a really nice friendly thing to do- the other guys loved it. ...It was _me_ \- I didn't want to just be friends. And as soon as I opened that crate... I realized it meant you weren't coming to New York even though I'd made this Grand Gesture... and I guess I kinda lost it.”

He swallows and looks away for a second before continuing.

“If you don't want to be with me, that's... I'll back off. I just... I realized I never actually told you that I want to be with you either. So it's your move, Beth.”

He's breathing hard, and that's when Beth realizes he's just as scared as she is. Like he's left his king totally exposed for her to take and topple and it's killing him.

She smiles tremulously and steps closer. “This isn't chess, Benny. I think... maybe both of us can win at this.”

He groans with relief and lunges forward to kiss her, and she almost whimpers at the flood of everything she's feeling as she kisses him back just as desperately.

They stumble up the stairs between kisses to her bedroom, shedding clothing as fast as they can. But once they're naked in bed, she realizes that what they're doing is making love instead of fucking. He's still careful to rouse her thoroughly, but there's a new tenderness to the way he strokes and licks her to aching readiness before he takes her. And it's so passionate and intimate as they kiss and gasp encouragements to each other while their bodies couple hungrily, holding each other tight.

She comes and comes and comes, over and over, like all the feelings have made the pleasure he gives her even more intense. And she loves how they stay in each other's arms after, kissing and talking and laughing until they're both ready to do it again. The jet lag and his long drive finally catch up to them after that and they fall asleep, utterly, deliciously fulfilled.

It's getting dark out when the phone jolts her awake, and she reaches for it blindly.

“...Hello?”

“Oh! Ms. Harmon, such a surprise to actually reach you! This is Tyler Dewhurst from the Chess Federation. First of all, congratulations on your stunning win over Vasily Borgov at the Moscow Invitational! We couldn't be any prouder!”

She's still too hazy with sleep to make more than a perfunctory noise of acknowledgment. But she smiles when she feels Benny's arm slide around her before he cuddles close behind. It feels so good to be really together like this, in her bed.

“...Tell whoever it is to call back later,” he grumbles, “and leave it off the hook.”

Mr. Dewhurst gives a nervous laugh before speaking quickly. “I do apologize if we've caught you at a bad time. We were simply hoping to set up a press tour now that you're back in the country, while the win is still fresh in people's minds. I can make all the arrangements- flights, hotels, per diem funds for both L.A and New York. I just need to get your permission and any special requests you may have to get the process started.”

Beth yawns and cuddles back against Benny. “...I'm still jet lagged but it sounds fine- I don't have any tournament plans in the near future. As for requests, can you cover companion tickets?”

Benny stills behind her and then squeezes her close, nuzzling the back of her neck. 

Mr. Dewhurst inhales with surprise but then replies without missing a beat. "I believe we can arrange that. The name of your companion?"

"...Benjamin Watts. You probably already have his details on file," she replies lightly, and she smiles when she feels him smile against her neck.

So this is what it feels like to resign with relief. 

It feels really good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this whole thing is so psychoanalytical meta, but I wanted to really show just how much Jolene meant to Beth, and how well she understood her? Like, I wanted that Benny/Beth HEA, but I really thought the whole selfish narcissistic tendencies thing needed to be addressed first and I didn't want to let him get away with any of the shit he pulled. (It's worse in the book, but I stuck to show canon, which is a bit rosier.) Apologies if my chess metaphors are off! Not sure if there will be another chapter, but do let me know what you think.
> 
> ETA: Made a promo edit on tumblr [here](https://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/635106452917403648/check-and-mate-by-nrgburst-bethjolene)\- likes and reblogs much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this whole thing is so psychoanalytical meta, but I wanted to really show just how much Jolene meant to Beth, and how well she understood her? Like, I wanted that Benny/Beth HEA, but I really thought the whole selfish narcissistic tendencies thing needed to be addressed first and I didn't want to let him get away with any of the shit he pulled. (It's worse in the book, but I stuck to show canon, which is a bit rosier.) Apologies if my chess metaphors are off! Not sure if there will be another chapter, but do let me know what you think.
> 
> ETA: Made a promo edit on tumblr [here](https://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/635106452917403648/check-and-mate-by-nrgburst-bethjolene)\- likes and reblogs much appreciated!


End file.
